Sketches by Rhiannon
by yoplait2000
Summary: After 'Virtuoso' life continues on Voyager, but two people are about to be made to confront their feelings for each other.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, here's my first Doc and Seven fic, written tonight so it's hot off  
the...um...word processor. Be gentle with me :-)

Title: Perspective  
Author: Rhiannon  
Contact: psyraven...  
Rating: PG  
Author's Notes: Doc/7 (of course) After 'Virtuoso' life continues on  
Voyager, but two people are about to be made to confront their feelings for  
each other.  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything. I own nothing. I just like to play  
with them...  
Distribution: If you want it, just ask...  
Feedback: Always welcome!

Perspective  
by Rhiannon Owen

The Doctor hummed quietly to himself as he put the finishing touches to his  
sketch. It had been so quiet in Sickbay recently that he had taken the  
opportunity to improve his drawing skills. It helped to distract him from  
the unfortunate incident with the Qomar and kept his mind from his  
infatuation with Seven for whole minutes at a time, a vast improvement on  
the situation of a few months ago. And, if he did say so himself, he was  
getting rather good, he thought, tilting his head to one side to check out  
his creation.

It was of Seven, of course. Nearly all his drawings were of the beautiful  
ex-Borg. Even when he began with the intention of drawing someone else, his  
mind would dwell on some aspect of her that enchanted him, and his fingers  
would itch to set down her image on paper. In this particular incarnation,  
she wore her hair down, falling in loose waves around her shoulders, as she  
had the time they danced. She was looking over one shoulder with a smile as  
old as Eve and a come-hither look in her eyes.

Wishful thinking, he thought ruefully. If she ever actually bestowed a look  
like that on him, his energy source would probably explode. Still, what harm  
could a little fantasy do? It was only between him and his sketchbook, after  
all. He stared at the picture for a few more seconds, running one finger  
reverently along the curve of her jaw. It was a wonderfully accurate  
rendition. He closed the book and let out a heartfelt, if unnecessary, sigh.  
Sometimes being so good at everything could be very painful.

As if his thoughts had somehow conjured her forth, Seven chose that moment  
to walk into Sickbay. The Doctor started guiltily and thrust the book onto  
his desk before turning to her with a determinedly breezy greeting.

"Good afternoon, Seven. What can I do for you on this fine day?" He would  
have winced at his own inanity if he hadn't had such good control over his  
photons.

Seven gave him a faintly curious look before speaking in her customary calm  
tones. "I am here for my maintenance check-up. Is this time convenient for  
you?"

"Certainly," the Doctor replied quickly, grateful to have something to  
occupy his errant thoughts. "As you can see, I'm not exactly run off my feet  
at the moment."

"That is good. It means that all of the crew are adequately healthy to  
perform their duties."

Doc permitted himself a small smile. Trust Seven to put things in terms of  
efficiency. "Quite so," he said, picking up the tricorder to begin the  
examination.

He barely had time to start before being interrupted by a page from  
B'Elanna.

"Torres to the Doctor."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant."

"I'm afraid we have a medical emergency here in the Mess hall."

"Don't tell me. Food poisoning?"

"For a change, no. Probably because it's the chef that's injured. Neelix has  
managed to cut himself quite badly but he won't come down to Sickbay  
because, and I quote, he's at a delicate point in his soufflé preparation."  
Torres' tone indicated quite clearly what she thought of that. "He's getting  
pretty agitated, not to mention getting blood all over the kitchen floor.  
Could you come check him out?"

"I'll be right there," Doc said. He turned to Seven with an apologetic  
smile. "Sorry about this. I shouldn't be too long, though. Do you want to  
wait here until I get back?"

Seven considered for a moment before nodding. "That would be acceptable."

The Doctor quickly collected what he needed and headed off for the Mess  
hall.

Seven of Nine sat quietly on the biobed for several minutes before getting  
up to pace around like a caged tiger. She hated inactivity. It was so  
inefficient. She was seldom at a loss for what to do with her time but had  
recently found that, if she did not have sufficient work to distract her,  
her mind had a distressing tendency to wander. The lack of discipline in  
such an act infuriated her but she seemed to have no control over this  
'daydreaming'. The Doctor would no doubt say it was all a part of becoming  
human again.

The Doctor. Seven paused in her pacing. He often featured in her daydreams,  
which was hardly surprising since he was the person she was closest to  
aboard Voyager, the one she had the most in common with. But her dreams were  
not always of just a friend or mentor, especially since he had almost left  
Voyager... and her. That incident had made her realise something. Without  
the Doctor, she was... lonely. An absurd realisation for one who had been  
alone in a way few humans could understand ever since she had been severed  
from the Collective. But when she was with the Doctor, she didn't feel that  
all-consuming solitude. In a strange way, he had become her Collective.

The feelings she had towards him were not the comforting familiarity of the  
hive, however. One moment he could make her feel light-hearted and warm all  
over and another he could cause her anger and frustration, even tears. She  
did not understand what all these emotions signified, but she was determined  
to find out.

She glanced down at the desk by which she had halted. Among the instruments  
scattered there, she could see a large paper book. On a ship which used  
electronic means of recording information, this in itself was unusual and  
Seven gave in to another of her weak human feelings... curiosity. Checking  
to make sure she was still alone, she picked up the book and opened it to  
the first page, only to come face to face with herself. But this was a Seven  
who wore her emotions on her face for all to see. She was lounging on a bed  
of some sort, a loving smile on her lips.

Seven flipped quickly through the rest of the book. Apart from the  
occasional sketch of Captain Janeway, Neelix or Tom and B'Elanna, every  
single drawing was of her. In each one, she was radiant with the glow of  
what could only be termed love. Seven was shocked. Was this what the Doctor  
saw when he looked at her? Were all her efforts to keep her feelings hidden  
behind a mask of cool efficiency wasted?

She looked through the book once more. No, she was sure she had never been  
in any of these situations. The Doctor was using his imagination only. But,  
if he was imagining such scenes, what did that say about his feelings for  
her? Were they just those of a proud teacher or a close friend, or did he  
feel something more? This bore closer investigation, Seven decided, setting  
the book aside just in time as the Doctor returned to Sickbay.

"Ah, Seven, shall we try again?" he said with a smile that made Seven's  
heart beat faster. She needed to get away and evaluate the information she  
had obtained in private. She was also not sure she could remain in such  
close proximity to the Doctor without giving herself away. He could be very  
astute at times.

"I'm afraid I must go, Doctor. I have just remembered a prior claim on my  
time. Perhaps we could reschedule this session for later in the week?"

The Doctor nodded, bemused, as Seven left Sickbay at close to warp speed.

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

Okay guys... here's the next installment in my newly titled 'Sketches'  
series. No actual Doc and Seven action as such... yet... but it's coming, I  
promise! :-) Just got to set the scene right!

Let me know what you think. Enjoy!

Rhiannon  
psyraven...

Title: Preparation (Part 2 of the 'Sketches' series, after Perspective)  
Author: Rhiannon  
Contact: psyraven...  
Rating: PG  
Author's Notes: Doc/7 (of course); P/T. Seven seeks advice on how to tell  
the Doctor her feelings... from perhaps the least likely source.  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything. I own nothing. I just like to play  
with them...  
Distribution: If you want it, just ask...

Preparation  
by Rhiannon Owen

Tom Paris leaned over to whisper in B'Elanna's ear. "She's staring at us  
again."

Torres looked over her shoulder and then shook her head. "Looks more like  
she's frowning at us to me. Actually, it makes a change. I was beginning to  
think our little Borg Queen never changed expression at all. Maybe she  
finally developed an emotion."

"What? Disapproval of me?"

"Well, she wouldn't be the first, now, would she?"

Tom gave her a sarcastic smile and stole a leola root fritter off her plate.  
"That's very funny. If I didn't know that you can't live without me, I might  
be offended." He bit down on the fritter before grimacing at the taste and  
tossing it back onto B'Elanna's plate. "So... should we ask her what's  
bothering her?"

"Maybe we should mind our own business," said B'Elanna pointedly. "Not that  
she ever does, of course. But I figure she's entitled to glare at you a bit  
after that whole bet thing you pulled with the Doc."

"B'Elanna, that was months ago," Tom exclaimed. "How could she still be mad  
at me about that?"

"I don't know. I'm still mad at you about it. You reached new depths of  
insensitivity. If you'd done something like that to me, you'd have been  
wearing your intestines as a hat."

Tom grinned at her. "I love it when you talk violent."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. He was completely irrepressible. And he was...  
getting up and heading over to Seven's table... Oh, great! She shoved her  
plate away and hurried after him, hoping for some sort of damage limitation.  
Well, it wasn't like the food was all that wonderful, anyway...

"Seven! Mind if I join you?" Tom said, sitting down in the chair opposite  
before she had chance to reply.

Seven raised one eyebrow. "Do I have a choice?"

"Seven, Seven," said Tom, shaking his head in mock reproof, "and I thought  
we were friends. What's got you so surly this early in the day?"

"I am not... surly, Ensign Paris. I was simply concentrating on a matter of  
some importance."

Tom's eyes lit up as if someone had just handed him the keys to a '68 Chevy.  
He leaned forward eagerly. He smelled gossip. "Anything you'd care to share  
with the rest of the crew?" He coughed. "I mean, with me?"

"Actually, he was right the first time," said Torres, taking the seat next  
to him and yanking him back towards her. "Cool it, helmboy. Did you ever  
stop to think that this might be a private matter?"

Seven looked surprised at Lieutenant Torres' defense. "As a matter of fact,  
it is private, Lieutenant. However, if I can be assured of your discretion,  
I would like to discuss my problem with you."

Tom rubbed his hands together in anticipation. This was bound to be good.  
Then he caught sight of B'Elanna's death glare and tried to look nonchalant,  
not entirely successfully.

"You can tell us, Seven. If he tries to pass it on, I'll make him eat his  
own arm."

"Well, it would taste better than Neelix's cooking but I kinda need it to  
fly with." He waved the arm in question. "Sorry."

"Oh, I'm sure Seven could build you a new one." B'Elanna's tone was deadly  
serious but Seven could detect a glint in her eye that betrayed her teasing.  
She tried to consider where to begin her story before the two got distracted  
in their daily bickering.

"It has recently come to my attention that I have developed feelings for one  
of the crew," she stated, getting right to the point. "I have reason to  
believe he may return my affection but I do not think that he will 'make the  
first move', as I believe you say."

"What's holding him back?" Tom asked. "Your warm personality? Your  
effervescent wit?" B'Elanna hit him. Hard. "What?" he gasped.

"It is alright, Lieutenant Torres," Seven said with a faint smile. "I do not  
take offense at such remarks. I am aware that most of the Voyager crew  
believe me to be cold, unemotional, still a machine at heart." She looked  
straight at B'Elanna and paused a moment before she said, "I am not like  
that with him."

B'Elanna smiled. "He must be quite a guy. Dare I ask his name?" She was  
astonished to see a vague flush of pink tinge Seven's cheeks. Why, the  
hard-as-nails ex-Borg was actually blushing! She glanced across at Tom to  
see him looking as shocked as she was.

Seven pushed the food on her plate round, as if looking for a distraction,  
before saying in a softer tone than usual, "He is the Doctor."

If B'Elanna had been shocked before, that was nothing to how she felt now.  
Seven and the Doc? But he was a hologram... made entirely out of light...  
How could that ever work?

Then she looked closer at the young woman sitting before her. When had Seven  
gotten that glow about her? And she was wearing her hair in a softer style.  
But the most telling sign was her eyes - they had gone all misty as she  
mentioned the Doc's name and B'Elanna knew that expression too well. It was  
how she looked at Tom... when he wasn't driving her up the wall, of course,  
but still... Who was she to stand in the way of true love?

"How can we help?" she said.

To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

Enjoy!  
Rhiannon

Title: Brushing Up (Part 3 of the 'Sketches' series, after Perspective and  
Preparation)  
Author: Rhiannon  
Contact: psyraven...  
Rating: PG-13 (maybe not in this part, but it's about to get hotter...)  
Author's Notes: Doc/7 (of course); P/T. Seven is receiving seduction tips  
from B'Elanna while Tom does a little spying in a bored moment. The Doc is  
about to get the surprise of his life...  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything. I own nothing. I just like to play  
with them...  
Distribution: If you want it, just ask...

Brushing Up  
by Rhiannon

"I know it's only rock 'n' roll but I like it, like it, ba-da-da," sang Tom  
Paris under his breath as he checked tissue samples and surreptitiously  
watched the Doctor.

Right on cue, the hologram looked over and gave him a disapproving glare. "A  
little concentration would not go amiss, Mr. Paris."

"Lighten up, Doc. I'm just trying to bring a little culture to Sickbay."

"That... noise... is your idea of culture?"

"Sure. It's practically history!" Tom enthused. "You should expand your  
horizons Doc. There's more to life than opera, you know."

Once again, the Doctor reacted exactly according to type. "I am always  
expanding my horizons, Mr. Paris. Why, only recently, I took up still-life  
drawing and, if I may make so bold, I've developed quite a knack for it."

"Get away!" Tom said, pasting an incredulous expression on his face. "You?  
An artist? I'll believe it when I see it." He waited patiently for the  
Doctor's predictable response. His ego, for want of a better word, was never  
very good at staying submerged. Tom was gambling that he wouldn't be able to  
resist showing off his work and then he'd finally get to see what had gotten  
Seven all in a flutter.

B'Elanna had been tutoring the ex-Borg in how to twist a man around her  
little finger and they'd both made it perfectly clear that Tom was neither  
needed nor wanted at these bonding sessions. All that female whispering  
made him nervous anyway. He almost felt sorry for the Doc — the poor guy  
didn't stand a chance. When a woman got that determined look in her eyes you  
might as well just wave the white flag and save yourself weeks of anguish  
and torment.

"Then feast your eyes on the work of a genius," said the Doctor with his  
customary lack of modesty, dragging Tom back to the situation at hand. He  
grabbed the sketch pad out of the hologram's hands and started flicking  
through, looking for the good stuff. He was surprised to discover that the  
Doctor had been telling the truth. He did have talent — the drawings were of  
exceptional quality. Tom paused for a moment at a picture of B'Elanna with a  
pensive look on her face. Probably pondering how to fix the transporter  
calibration circuits, he thought fondly.

"I don't suppose I could have this one?" he asked.

The Doctor smiled. "I don't see why not. It really captures her intensity,  
doesn't it?"

"Yeah," agreed Tom, already flipping through the next few pages. He felt  
himself start to smirk as he saw all the pictures of Seven: Seven sleeping,  
Seven laughing, Seven looking seductive. "Seems like an awful lot of these  
drawings are of one particular person," he said. "Don't tell me you've still  
got a crush on a certain blonde Borg."

He could see the Doctor clench his teeth and his fists before controlling  
his temper. Interesting, Tom thought, very interesting.

"As it happens, Mr. Paris, my feelings for Seven are none of your business,  
but I can assure you that they are not in the nature of an adolescent  
infatuation. I lo..." He broke off suddenly, as if aware of what he had  
almost let slip. Tom decided not to push it — he'd already found out what he  
needed to know. Whistling cheerily, he got back to work, the Doctor shooting  
him suspicious glances every few seconds.

* * * * * * * * * *

"No, Seven!" B'Elanna ran a hand through her usually immaculate hair in  
frustration. "You're still being too aggressive."

"It works for you," the Borg commented.

"That's not the point. I'm part Klingon and expected to be a little..."

"Violent?"

"Assertive," B'Elanna insisted. "The point is that you may have been Borg  
once, but you started as a human and you still are human deep down.  
Behaviour that's acceptable from me is seen as pushy and domineering in a  
human woman."

"I could say it is seen that way in you also, but I am striving to improve  
my personal interaction skills," Seven stated, her lips twitching almost  
imperceptibly. She always enjoyed baiting B'Elanna — she was one of the few  
crew members who wasn't afraid to bite back. Seven was also grateful for the  
time B'Elanna had been spending, coaching her in how to seduce a man.

Considering that her former coach was now to be the target of her  
newly-learned skills, it would hardly have been appropriate to enlist his  
aid in this particular lesson. Seven could barely wait to show him how much  
she had learned already. She was sure he would be proud of her — once he  
recovered from the shock, of course.

"Okay," said B'Elanna. "Let's recap. You set up Sickbay with flowers and  
romantic music, dim the lighting, lock the door and activate the Doc. Then  
what?"

"I proceed through the fourteen steps of seduction which you have detailed  
to me." Seven's tone was impatient. "I assure you, I am adequately prepared  
to carry out this task."

"Uh-huh," B'Elanna said, clearly sceptical. "You nervous?"

"Anxiety at this stage would be a pointless emotion. I can do nothing to  
determine the Doctor's reaction to my plans, therefore it would be a waste  
of time to worry about that reaction." Seven paused, took a deep breath and  
looked over at B'Elanna. "I have never been more nervous in my life," she  
said.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Please state the nature of..." The Doctor's voice trailed off as he took in  
his surroundings. It certainly looked like Sickbay - yes, there was a  
biobed, under what looked like... satin sheets? How odd.

He looked around further, noting the profusion of flowers artfully arranged  
in crystal vases. As he struggled to deduce a reason for the change in  
décor, a husky voice behind him said, "Computer, play audio selection EMH  
Alpha Nine."

The subtle refrain of a Puccini aria filled the air and the Doctor turned  
slowly towards the direction from which the voice had come. If he had  
possessed a heart, it would have stopped beating there and then. As it was,  
his photons skipped a cycle. Every fantasy he had ever had had come true -  
Seven lounged on the other biobed in what looked like a nightdress, all thin  
straps and clingy fabric. Her hair hung down around her face in golden  
waves. As he watched, glassy-eyed, she plucked a grape from a platter next  
to the bed and popped it between her full, pouting lips. He gulped audibly.

"Good evening, Doctor," she said softly, when he appeared unable to speak.

Please don't let it be another daydream, thought the Doctor, Please,  
please...


End file.
